


The Eternal Lateness of Being

by madeof_it



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-26
Updated: 2014-06-26
Packaged: 2018-02-06 07:09:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1849036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madeof_it/pseuds/madeof_it
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermione tells Ron she's late. He responds.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Eternal Lateness of Being

"Ron, I'm late."

His eyes were still closed as he felt for her body, perched stiffly on the edge of their bed. Warm hands, warm fingers wrapped themselves around her waist as he tried to pull her back into bed.

"Nobody will be expecting you for at least another hour and you know it," he muttered into the pillow.

She struggled against him until sighing and allowing him to draw her into his chest, enclosed within his arms. Back beneath the covers, things seemed okay again. Everything will be fine, she told herself, and with her hair tucked underneath his chin, she could almost believe it.

"No, Ron. Not that kind of late. Like, I'm late. My period. It's late."

He tensed around her, and she could almost feel the tension that had snapped him out of his sleepy reverie. After barely a second, though, she felt his muscles relax. It was almost easier to be telling him this when she couldn't see his face. She didn't know how he would react, and she didn't know if she could bear it.

"Have you ... have you tried any diagnostic spells?"

They'd both learned a few handy ones, first out of necessity (you never knew when you'd need extra healing skills when Death Eaters were running rampant) and then because they found they both actually enjoyed it. The amount of enjoyment he got out of tending to the injured and ill was as much as surprise to Ron as it had been to his family and friends, but he'd proven to be quite the Healer over the last few years of his training. He was now a fully-certified Mediwizard, although he'd found he didn't like working at St. Mungo's. Harry had loaned him enough money to start his own clinic, and he'd been happily working there ever since.

Hermione was in charge of the books, taking care of the business behind the scenes, but she was also well-versed in many things healing-related (partly because of her insatiable curiosity for further knowledge, but also because she was firmly of the mindset that Anything Ron Could Do, She Could Do Better).

Neither of them seem prepared for confirmation of whether or not she might be pregnant.

She still couldn't look at him.

They'd planned on having children, but not this soon, not with the clinic less than a year old, and their flat in chaos, and their house (closer to the clinic, and with more room for visitors) still being built, and Ron attending medical seminars every month for the rest of the year, and Hermione wanting to start an apprenticeship, and and and.

There were too many other things they'd both wanted before coming to this moment. Neither felt prepared, and they'd spoken about it and decided they wanted to wait until they were fully ready to be parents, until after they felt more settled in their adult lives, after they felt like they'd lived a bit more. They'd even taken extra-precautions to try and ensure that this moment WOULDN'T happen until they wanted it.

But the two of them, knowledgeable as they were in the field of the human body, knew that things happened, and sometimes you couldn't account for everything. Goodness knows the two of them had enough experience with things spiraling beyond their control.

And that brought them back to that moment, the two of them curled into each other, Ron's arms wrapped so tightly around Hermione's body that their skin felt like it was melding together. Her hair tickled his nose, but he didn't dare move, and his eyes were squeezed shut, with his brows furrowed as he fought to find the words she needed to hear from him.

"Well," he started, his words cautious and hesitant, "before we start thinking about anything else, maybe we should try the diagnostics just to see if there's even anything to be concerned about."

She nodded, still pressed against him, and the movement of her head swiped her curls across his chin.

With that, she pulled away from him, climbing out of their bed and standing directly in front of it. Ron repositioned himself so that he was sitting on the edge, his long legs hanging over the edge, and he reached for his wand on the nightstand.

It was only when he looked up that he saw her, slouched over, her hair a ragged halo around her head, her arms crossed in front of her, wearing one of his shirts that was too big on her and fell almost to her knees. She was worrying her bottom lip, a habit he'd seen her cultivate since he first met her at the wise old age of eleven, and he was filled with the knowledge that he had loved this woman for more than half of his life, whether he'd known it then or not.

Seeing her like that unclenched something that had been coiled tight inside him. He rose and stood in front of her, looking down and grasping her chin gently in his hands, urging her to look into his own face. When her eyes met his, he noticed that they were filled with tears, and he softly kissed each of her eyelids, feeling her tears on his lips as they spilled over.

"No matter what this says," he murmured, "we will get through it, and we will deal with it in a manner that will probably both impress and terrify our friends."

She tried to smile, but he could feel her anxiety, and with a soft _I love you_ he moved around the back of her body, enclosing her in another tight squeeze. She pressed her back against his chest, and he claimed her left hand with his, his fingers entangling with hers and the metal of their wedding bands making a slight scraping noise.

Still holding her, he moved his wand in a series of elaborate motions, the soft swish of willow the only noise in the silent room. The two of them had long since mastered the art of silent spells, but this was one instance in which she wished she could hear his voice.

The diagnostic spell took, and suddenly Hermione was glowing gold, and Ron stepped back from her, his arms dropping as he circled her body, which had relaxed as the magic made itself known in her body.

"Well. That's certainly a surprise."

And the look on his face, and the way it shone with his love told her all she needed to know.


End file.
